


dim lights and revelations

by selenedaydreams



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Porn, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6669235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenedaydreams/pseuds/selenedaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew Garner gives them textbook strategies for coping with stress but Mack has a better idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dim lights and revelations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GettheSalt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettheSalt/gifts).



> Look, I'm not saying that Joey and Mack have a lot of chemistry and would totally be a great couple but I'm totally saying that and here's the semi filthy fic to prove it.

Dr. Gardner called it the tombstone test.

Imagine how you’ll be remembered when you’re dead, he said, it’s a way to manage stress. Don’t sweat the small stuff, you know?

Joey takes all of his advice in stride but the stress coping strategies are just too hard to swallow. You might as well ask him to stop breathing because it’s a little hard not to feel stressed out when your life is suddenly turned upside down by a bottle of fish oil supplements. So much for trying to be healthy.

That was three months ago but still, Dr. Gardner doesn’t seem to understand what it’s like to wake up in the middle of the night with a sharp pain in your chest that reminds you that you will never escape this. This is your life now, it whispers to him, and Joey wants nothing more than to down an entire bottle of whiskey in hopes that it will silence that voice, if only for a little while.

Lincoln stifles those urges though, takes the bottle out of his hand while watching him with a wretched expression because, “That’s not the answer, trust me,” and there’s so much sorrow and regret in his voice that Joey doesn’t dare ask _how_ he knows this. It’s not difficult to guess.

His hands shake as he pours the bottle down the drain and that’s enough of an answer for now. Enough to make him think twice about seeking comfort from liquor.

**\---**

_Imagine how you’ll be remembered when you’re dead._

Those words stay with him, clinging to his mind days after their session together. He doesn’t have an answer. He honestly doesn’t have an answer but some days after everything is said and done and he’s sitting in the medical ward nursing three bruised ribs and a minor concussion, he thinks he’d like his tombstone to read “He fought a good fight.” That’s certainly better than “Got fucked by the universe,” though both options are equally valid.

Daisy tells him she wants her tombstone to read ‘LOL’ but that seems just a little vulgar, to put it lightly.

He still doesn’t understand how it’s supposed to help him cope with stress because sometimes the bigger picture is quite literally a choice between life and death. At point, stress seems like a lifesaving advantage because the little stuff could actually kill him.

**\---**

When he reaches for the alcohol again, it’s not out of misery but because it’s offered to him. Mack slides the beer bottle over to him and he accepts it with a silent nod.

They’re somewhere in Colombia, a small town with exceptionally good food and even better company. It feels a bit like home but maybe that’s because he can freely use his native tongue. Mack, on the other hand, relies solely on him for translations. Translations that at some point become tedious because it’s more than obvious that no one around here has heard of the inhuman that’s been blasted across all major news sites.

Joey doesn’t blame her for fleeing, it’s what any rational person would do when they’re being hunted down by questionable government agencies.

Mack drinks like he’s dissatisfied with himself, downing a third of his beer before reaching into the bowl of peanuts on the other side of Joey. At six foot four inches he could be the picture of terrifying if Joey didn’t know better. The truth of the matter is that there’s nothing scary about Mack if you’re on his side, if not, God have mercy on your soul.

“You know, I can hear you thinking.”

There’s an amused note to those words that draws Joey out of his head and back into the real world. Back into the real world where he’s now acutely aware of the fact that their thighs are touching and they’re in far closer proximity than Joey previously remembered.

The polite thing to do would be to scoot away, shift his stool to the left enough that they are no longer touching but if Mack has noticed, he doesn’t seem to mind so Joey feigns ignorance for the time being.

“Care to share?” It’s a follow up question since he didn’t actually respond to the first.

“Not really.”

“Come on, man.” Mack urges, elbowing him in an encouraging fashion that has Joey taking another sip from his beer before responding.

“Dr. Gardner keeps telling me that I need to manage my stress.” He says. “I know the guy’s a trained therapist and I’m sure he’s great with the regular crowd but us? I don’t think normal stress coping skills apply to S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.”

Mack laughs, warm and hardy, nodding along to his words in a way that means he understands when here’s coming from. “I hear you. Can’t say that I use any of his methods.”

“What do _you_ do?”

Mack smirks against the rim of the bottle. “Honestly? I think sex is the best option.”

Those words send a shiver of excitement through Joey’s body and if his eyes start to wonder he’d like to blame it on the fact that it’s very dark inside the bar. Except that Mack is watching him now, looking at him with the kind of expression that implies his answer was more than just an answer.

It’s an invitation and he’s itching to say yes because it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. Mack _has_ to know that he looks absolutely sinful in the tank-tops he insists on wearing around the base.

And that’s how it happens.

One moment Mack is giving him bedroom eyes and the next, Joey is dragging him towards the men’s bathroom and pushing him against the closed door. Single stall, thank God.

There’s no finesse behind the way Joey kisses him, overwhelmingly filthy and tasting of the same cheap beer they had been drinking just moments ago. Mack’s hands are on his waist in an instant before sliding down to his hips and even though this isn’t meant to be poetic he swears his hands feel like they belong there.

Warm lips leave a trail of kisses down Joey’s neck and when his hands touch his bare skin just beneath the hem of his shirt, he can swear Mack is smirking at the way he shivers under his almost innocent touch. It doesn’t matter though because both of their shirts are tugged off at once and if they weren’t so caught up in the moment they might rethink throwing them on the floor.

Then again, if they weren’t so caught up in the moment Joey might also regret sinking down to his knees right then and there and unbuckling Mack’s belt faster than he could probably diffuse a bomb.

Mack doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell him to stop or go faster, he just runs his fingers through Joey’s hair and tugs on them ever so slightly when Joey cups him through his boxers. This kind of teasing doesn’t compare to the foreplay he’s imagined but he’ll take what he can get.

Joey doesn’t waste time in tugging down his boxers before swallowing him down. It’s a little fast, a little too rushed but Mack is moaning and calling out his name and it only makes Joey want to do this over and over again.

Mack’s head hits the door, Joey hears it as he focuses on moving faster, taking him in deeper. Showing off, basically. His hands are holding Mack’s hips tight enough to bruise and there’s a part of him that is hoping for just that.

For a reminder that this was real.

Joey knows he’s good, he’s had enough guys tell him he’s the best they’ve had to know that, but there’s something even more validating about the way Mack tugs at his hair and insists on saying his name above all else. The people inside the bar can probably hear them but at this moment, Joey couldn’t care less because when Mack finishes, it’s with a shout of his name.

He doesn’t swallow, he knows it’s not polite to spit but hey, there’s only so much romancing a guy can manage in the dingy bathroom of a one and a half star bar. Mack laughs behind him as he leans over the sink and he can hear him tugging his jeans back up when he’s rinsing his mouth out.

“Kinda ruins the magic, don’t you think?”

“Spitting?” He asks. “Are you serious?”

Mack shrugs and smiles as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Kind of. Yeah.”

“Maybe next time I’ll make an exception for you.” Joey says, trying to keep his tone light but there’s an unmistakable hopefulness he can’t manage to hide because Mack said those magic words he longed to hear: _next time._

Mack catches on, he must have, because the next thing Joey knows, there are warm lips presses against his all over again expect that the raw passion from before has been replaced with the kind of sweet tenderness that does not belong inside this place.

“Maybe next time you’ll let me take care of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @jiubilee (previously mallcolmducasse)
> 
> (By the way, the Tombstone Test is in fact a real stress coping strategy that actually been proven to be relatively effective and encourages people to look at the bigger picture rather the small details because on your death bed you probably won't lament getting a B on a test instead of an A. That's the basic premise of how it works.)


End file.
